


묵주 (Rosary)

by aguantare



Series: Sin Fronteras [25]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Rare Pairings, Religious Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 23:57:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15448722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aguantare/pseuds/aguantare
Summary: The steps up to the front entrance of the church, the first inner hall, the stairs down to the mausoleum, Heung-min navigates them all with ease; after all, he's been coming here every year, on this very day, for the past ten years.





	묵주 (Rosary)

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this mostly because I miss L.A.'s Koreatown, and because both Korea and Mexico hold special places in my heart (and in my life). I'm not Catholic, and I have plenty of problems with the church, but faith plays an integral part in so many people's lives, including those of immigrants, and when it comes to immigration, Catholic churches have often been at the forefront of defending immigrant and refugee rights. 
> 
> Disclaimer: don't know them, don't own them, don't sue me

Heung-min asks Chung-yong for an extra hour off of work over lunch. Chung-yong takes one look at the date and adds an additional hour before signing off on the request.

“Koreatown is literally halfway across the city,” his supervisor/best friend since grade school says, then switches over to Korean, adds, “ _And you know you're going to have to park half a mile from the church._ ”

They tend to default to Korean when talking about serious things. It used to be so other people couldn't eavesdrop as easily. Now it's just a habit. 

“ _I know, hyung_ ,” Heung-min replies, intentionally using the formal level of address, just to lighten the mood a little and piss Chung-yong off at the same time.

He gets a dirty towel thrown in his face for it. 

-

Hector calls in sick to his second job. He's not physically ill, but a graveyard shift, followed by a phone call from Mexico that he could never have prepared for, no matter how hard he tried, have left him feeling jumbled and restless, barely able to focus on the road as he drives down Wilshire Boulevard. He at least has the wherewithal to know that trying to operate heavy factory machinery in this state is a recipe for disaster.

He miraculously finds a parking space just a few blocks down a side street near St. Basil's. He picks his phone up from the passenger seat, pulls up the first number on his speed dial, but can't quite bring himself to hit 'Call.' It's one thing for his throat to close up and his voice to break on a call with his brother. It's another thing entirely for it to happen on a call with his father, the man who, for better or worse, has always taught him to be strong, to never show weakness.

After a few seconds, he closes the screen and tucks his phone into his pocket, gets out of his car and heads for the church. 

-

Chung-yong was right; Heung-min has to park nearly half a mile away from St. Basil's. He remembers reading somewhere that Koreatown has the highest population density in L.A. County. He believes it. Growing up here, he never really noticed, but now that he has to drive through here daily, he's constantly aware of it, the amount of cars and people and buildings all crammed into these three square miles or so.

The steps up to the front entrance of the church, the first inner hall, the stairs down to the mausoleum, Heung-min navigates them all with ease; after all, he's been coming here every year, on this very day, for the past ten years. 

-

Hector has only been to St. Basil's a few times. St. Agnes' is closer, and the Spanish masses are more convenient for his work schedule, but he likes the priest at St. Basil's better, so he comes here when he can. 

He can see a few people scattered throughout the sanctuary as he steps inside. It's quiet and cool and still, a sharp contrast to the heat and bustle and noise outside. Hector turns to the bowl of holy water, dips his fingers in and crosses himself as he steps over the threshold into the sanctuary itself. 

-

There are many, many names all along the walls of the mausoleum. The first few occasions, it took Heung-min a little while to find the one he was looking for. Now though, it takes him no time at all. He walks to the third column from the far end, stops, and crouches down.

And there, seven places from the bottom, in between “Maria Lopez Rodriguez” and “Alejandro Martinez” is the one name he knows is there, but somehow still isn't able to get used to seeing.

Heung-min reaches out to touch the Korean letters etched into the silver plate. 

“Hi, _uhmma_ ,” he whispers. 

-

On his knees, in a pew near the back of the sanctuary, Hector doesn't even know what to pray for. A miracle? A cure for the cancer that's killing his mother? A time machine to go back and undo his decision to ever leave Mexico in the first place? His mind roils with every decision he's ever made, wonders if this is punishment, somehow, for the ones he got wrong. 

He drops his head down to rest on his clasped hands, breathes deep to try and center himself.

-

Even after all these years, sitting with his mother still makes Heung-min feel hollow, like someone just reached inside him and took everything out. He escapes to the sanctuary like he always does, finds a seat in a pew near the back and takes the rosary from around his neck, works his way through a few Hail Marys and Our Fathers until some of the feeling comes back. He manages to smile a little at the thought of how furious his mother would be if she found out he's mostly forgotten how to properly pray the rosary. 

_Sorry, uhmma_ , he thinks, setting his hands in his lap, the rosary clasped between them. He hopes he makes her proud in other ways.

-

The only _rosario_ Hector ever had, he lost somewhere in the Sonora Desert on the journey north three years ago. 

It's not that he needs a rosary in his hands in order to say one. He's prayed so many of them over the years, he knows the words by heart. 

It just feels strange, to move from one Hail Mary to the next and not feel the beads between his fingers.

-

There's a man deep in prayer at the other end of the pew. Latino, like so many of the parishioners here nowadays. Heung-min wishes he spoke more Spanish—he thinks masses sound so much more beautiful in Spanish than in Korean, and as much fun as it is talking shit in Spanglish with the guys at work, it'd be kind of nice to be able to talk to them for real.

Heung-min isn't trying to look, but he's not trying to avoid looking either. He notices the way the other man's fingers curl now and again, grasping for something that isn't there. 

-

Hector tells himself he isn't going to cry. He hasn't cried in years. But his mother is the one who taught him how to pray the rosary in the first place, and with every Hail Mary and Glory Be he can feel her sitting next to him, can hear her voice in his head, filling in the words when he falters.

He ducks his head down as the tears spill over, pulls the collar of his shirt up to cover his face.

-

Heung-min gets to his feet, moves carefully, quietly down the aisle, toward the other man. He must hear Heung-min coming or something, because he turns his head a little, and then starts to get up, to move aside so Heung-min can get by him. Heung-min reaches out, touches his shoulder to stop him.

There are only a few reasons you go to church in the middle of a workday to pray, and none of them are good. Heung-min knows; he's been there. The drawn look on this man's face, the brightness in his eyes, they just serve as confirmation.

Wordlessly, he holds out the rosary. The other man hesitates, eyes darting between the rosary and Heung-min's face. Heung-min dips his head in what he hopes is an encouraging nod, and the other man extends his hand. 

-

Hector watches the other man—Korean, probably, at least in this part of town—deposit his rosary carefully into his palm, and just the way he does it, the way he unwinds the chain and beads from his fingers, Hector can tell that it's precious to him. He tries to find the words in English to say no, it's okay, he doesn't need to do this, but they don't come. 

-

Heung-min can tell by his companion's expression that he's trying to work out a protest. He tries for a smile, and then, because he doesn't know what else to do, he defaults to a bow, hopes the other man has been in Los Angeles long enough to understand that it's a sign of deference, of respect. 

-

Hector watches his benefactor walk down the aisle the opposite direction and head for the exit. The dark wood rosary beads are warm in his hand. 

-

“Who did you give it to?” 

Heung-min glances over at Chung-yong's question. It's late afternoon and they're in the midst of inventory.

“What?” 

Chung-yong doesn't look up from the inventory sheet he's scrawling half-Korean, half-English notes onto. 

“ _Your mom's rosary_.” He pauses with his scribbling, crosses something out. “ _You came back without it_.”

“ _And I know you_ ,” Chung-yong adds, “ _You'd give me the last five bucks in your bank account if I let you._ ”

“ _You say that like it's a bad thing._ ”

“ _Good or bad, it's the truth_ ,” Chung-yong replies, glancing over with a look that's far gentler than his typically brusque tone.

“So,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “ _Who'd you give it to_?”

Heung-min watches him turn back to his inventory sheet. 

“Just...” It takes him a moment to come up with the words in either English or Korean. “ _Just someone who needed it more than I do_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Koreatown is in fact [one of the most densely populated areas](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koreatown,_Los_Angeles) in L.A. county. It's also [very diverse](https://www.discoverlosangeles.com/blog/guide-koreatown-los-angeles), with high percentages of both Asian and Latino residents.  
> Korean has multiple levels of speech formality, depending on seniority and closeness of the speakers. Full disclaimer, I speak very little Korean, and am not at all well-versed in Korean formality, but in general, close friends would likely not use the formal level of address with each other.  
>  _hyung_ : 형, Korean for older brother (for a male addressing an older male); used between friends as well.  
>  _uhmma_ : 엄마, Korean for mom  
>  _rosario_ : Spanish for rosary


End file.
